Casebook 2 : The Case Of The Disappearing Actress
by TalepieceUK
Summary: From The Casebook Of Madame Vastra. Vastra and Jenny are called in to solve the mystery of an actress who has disappeared into thin air.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: The Case Of The Disappearing Actress  
AUTHOR: Talepiece  
RATING: 12 cert.  
PAIRING: Vastra/Jenny  
SERIES: The Casebook Of Madame Vastra  
CONTINUITY: This is the second of the Vastra/Jenny detective stories.  
SUMMARY: Vastra and Jenny are called in to solve the mystery of an actress who has disappeared into thin air.  
DISCLAIMER: I own them not, please sue me not.  
CREDITS: This story is based on the first Professor Van Dusen ("The Thinking Machine") story, _The First Problem_, by Jaques Futrelles.

* * *

As word of the resolution of their early cases spread, so did the renown of Madame Vastra and Jenny Flint, along with their notoriety with the local Constabulary. That changed somewhat, though it was never lost entirely, with the case of the actress Miss Wallack and her remarkable disappearance. Here, for the first but not the last time, Scotland Yard sought out the aid of the two women.

Jennifer Strax Vastra-Flint  
London, 1948

* * *

She was living in a house. A human house. Human! Vastra paced around the small abode, every sense aflame as she sought out even the slightest hint of human that did not belong to Jenny herself. They had scrubbed the place until even the brickwork shone, all in an attempt to rid their new home of what had been the overwhelming stench of the previous occupants.

Jenny waited until Vastra returned to the little sitting room and grabbed at her arm. "Why don't you have a sit down now, eh Madame? Nice cuppa tea?"

"I have yet to discern the healing properties you so obviously ascribe to that beverage, my dear. Tell me, what exactly do you consider the chief benefit of tea?"

"Good for the soul. Or so my old mam used to say."

Jenny's smile faltered as she made the comment and Vastra wondered again at the strange mix of fierce determination and utter desolation that seemed to war inside her friend. And friends they were, though Vastra had no idea how such a thing could have happened. Certainly she had not taken any conscious decision at any point in their brief relationship. Jenny Flint - it was short for Jennifer, Vastra had learned recently but the girl preferred the diminutive - had simply insinuated herself into Vastra's very being and, to her utter amazement, Vastra had done the same in reverse. She had not a clue how. Which was somewhat embarrassing given their newfound fame as the solvers of the unsolvable.

"Oh you do need a cuppa, Madame, you've gone quite pale around the," Jenny waved her hand around her throat in a vague gesture, "gills."

Vastra cast her a hard stare but it was met with nothing but a roll of the eyes. So much for being a great Silurian warrior, she told herself but felt no bitterness or self pity. That, if anything, was the most terrrifying part of all this; she was entirely happy that her life had taken such a dramatic turn. It was unimaginable. And quite lovely.

Jenny left the room and returned a few minutes later with a tray neatly laid for this strange art that Jenny described as "being mother". In quick time the cups were full of the light brown liquid and Jenny offered one to Vastra with a smile. They were finally settling back in their spotless home when the doorbell rang.

Jenny said a word that Vastra had never heard from her lips before but one that accurately summed up her own feelings. If only because she would have to don that ridiculous veil again. Jenny stood and straightened out her pinny, pulling her maid's bonnet from the large pocket and tugging it on to her head as she walked to the door. Vastra was not entirely sure why the girl insisted on this pretense of mistress and maid. It was an artifical construct forced upon them by this backward society of this backward race and yet, even given the chance to refute it, Jenny was determined to play along.

When Jenny returned there was a man with her. In his forties, Vastra thought, of military bearing but not a natural commander of men. His face was small and round, his dark hair receding harshly, his frame lean. A nervous man but one used to having to hide it, one always expecting the worst.

"A visit from the Police, how charming," Vastra said, startling the man.

He stared at her for a moment before inclining his head in both greeting and agreement, "I am Inspector Brown of Scotland Yard, Madame Vastra."

"A pleasure, Inspector. You have met my associate, Jenny Flint. How may we be of service?"

"Yes, well, a little embarrassing this Madame."

"Do not be embarrassed Inspector. Pray, take a seat and explain the situation that brings you here."

He sat in the seat Jenny had vacated, Jenny stationing herself to the side where she could watch the man's face carefully but he could not see any gestures she might make to Vastra.

"Now then, Madame, I have a case. Quite a shocking case and one that I find utterly inexplicable. I am not in the habit of bringing such things to anyone outside of the Force, as you can imagine I'm sure, and certainly not one to consult a so-called Consulting Detective," he offered a faint smile to offset his words, "however, I am quite baffled and time, I believe, is of the essence."

"Indeed, Inspector, and the case itself?"

"A disappearance. A girl, well young woman. An actress, in fact, one Miss Wallack. You know of her?"

"Irene Wallack?" Jenny said, "Saw her once when me Dad took me to the theatre. Proper treat it was and she was quite fine. And a wonderful actress I'm sure," she added in a rush.

"Quite," Vastra said after a moment to take in the flush of Jenny's face, "Quite, my dear. Alas, Inspector, I am less of a theatre-goer than my companion but I am certainly aware of Miss Wallack's reputation. Her Rosalind has received much praise of late, has it not?"

"It has, Madame Vastra, much praise indeed."

"And the sudden illness reported this morning in the newspapers - a ruse?"

"Thought it best to keep things out of the 'papers for as long as possible, Madame.

"Quite right. Now, tell us what you know, Inspector."

"Miss Wallack and the company were performing their final night at the Lyric Theatre - the Lyric on Shaftesbury Avenue - last evening.

"There was some gaiety to precedings backstage, much as the last day of term I suppose. Though many in the cast were suffering from a vague sort of malaise; the influenza most likely, bought on by the rigours of their extensive tour. Miss Wallack herself played the second act with a terrible headache and her maid had to be sent home with some sort of sickness.

"One minute before the third act curtain up, the stage manager made his call to Miss Wallack and she replied, most certainly in her own voice. Rosalind does not make her entrance until six minutes into the final act and she was expected in the wings a minute or two before."

"Yet she did not arrive on cue?"

"I'm afraid not. The stage manager returned to her dressing room in some consternation but Miss Wallack was gone. A hurried search was made but she could not be discovered and the company manager was forced to cancel the performance, explaining this as a sudden illness."

"There were no sign of her?"

"None at all, Miss Flint, she had apparently evaporated into thin air."

"Highly unlikely, wouldn't you say Inspector?"

"I would. And I would say something else, Madame Vastra. In cases such as these, involving the disappearance of a beautiful young woman, time is almost certainly of the essence. If there is any chance that Miss Wallack remains alive, we must find her and as soon as possible."

"You are quite right," Vastra said, standing and turning to Jenny, "I believe a trip to the theatre is in order, wouldn't you say?"


	2. Chapter 2

See Part One for story details.

* * *

Inspector Brown had gone on ahead while Vastra and Jenny prepared themselves and took a Hansom cab. There had been some confusion in the mind of the driver - deliberate, Vastra thought - over which Lyric they wished to visit but they had eventually found themselves on the correct road to Shaftesbury Avenue. After somewhat longer than Vastra would have liked, the cab pulled up outside the theatre and they stepped out to view the impressive building rising above them.

"So this girl is about your age?" Vastra continued their conversation from the cab as they entered the theatre and took in the foyer, "How charming," she added as she glanced around.

"Few years older, I suppose," Jenny said, beaming up at the blush decor and high ceilings, "Quite the beauty and a rare talent too, I reckon."

"A husband?"

"No, Madame, no beaus at all, if you believe the gossip and that. Quite the good little girl; admirers galore and many a rich man amongst them but she's considered Perfectly Clean," Jenny twisted her mouth as she said the words, "her life an open book and all that."

"Or one written in cypher, perhaps?" Vastra offered as the Inspector strode towards them with two men in tow, "Inspector, forgive the delay in our arrival."

"Think nothing of it. Madame Vastra, allow me to introduce Mr Standing, the company manager, and Mr Wickes, the stage manager here at the theatre."

"A pleasure, Gentlemen, despite the circumstances. My associate, Miss Flint."

The greetings over, Vastra said, "Shall we begin? Miss Wallack had shown no signs of distress or anxiety during the performance?"

"She was feeling poorly, Madame," Mr Standing said, "but still played the first two acts to an enthusiastic reception. As she had indeed for the previous some forty performances, the tour having been a resounding success, I'm very happy to say."

The man had a high, nasal tone to his voice that grated on Vastra and she turned to Mr Wickes and his broad, bluff face in hope of relief, "And you are certain that it was Miss Wallack who responded to your pre-act call, Mr Wickes?"

"Quite certain, Madame, the little thing has a lovely voice and a surprisingly large one for such a small creature. I made the call myself, as is my custom, and fully expected her to be ready for her cue on time."

"And you're sure about the timing too?" Jenny said.

"I keep my records religiously, my girl, all noted and annoted. The time sheet says that Act Three began at precisely 9:41pm. I made my call to Miss Wallack at one minute before and she was due on stage at six minutes after the act began."

"Then our mystery is thus: how can a woman, in full hearing and almost in plain sight, I dare say, of her friends and colleagues, disappear entirely in little more than seven minutes. I believe we will begin with the dressing room in question, Inspector."

"I must excuse myself, I'm afraid," Mr Standing cut in, "I have commitments this very moment."

"And if I require your assistance Mr Standing?"

"My card. I am, of course, at your disposal."

The man left and the three of them followed Mr Wickes through the foyer and beyond a door marked "House Staff Only".

In contrast to the blush surroundings of the front of house, backstage was a cramped warren of corridors and rooms. Jenny looked around, taking it all in with a smile. She'd always wondered what went on backstage, it seemed like such a romantic sort of thing. It didn't look like it though as she noticed something small and furry scuttling into the shadows as they approached.

The stage manager lead them to the first in a short row of doors off a narrow corridor that lead directly to the stage via two short flights of steps. An old Constable pushed himself out of his reclining position against the wall as he caught sight of his superior and came to a lax sort of attention as they joined him. He opened the door at a nod from Brown and the Inspector waved the two women inside.

It was a small, poorly decorated room dominated by an old dressing table with a large mirror opposite the door and a scruffy old sofa against one wall. What had once been a pretty little screen stood in the corner behind the door but there was nothing else in the room apart from a musty smell that made Vastra's back straighten. Jenny cast her a sympathic look and moved over to the one tiny window that was set into the far wall. It was heavily barred and opened not onto the daylit street but into a vent that rose up to street level.

"She certainly didn't get out through the windows then."

"We're below ground level down here, Miss," Mr Wickes said, "All the few windows down here are like that and the stage-level windows are barred too. No-one could get out that way, not even that young Houdini chap they're making such a fuss about."

"Miss Wallack must have kept more in her dressing room than this bare minimum, Mr Wickes?"

"As do they all, Madame. Miss Wallack travelled with two whacking great cases. And I can vouch for that too, since I had to help the boys shift them out just last night."

"Why were Miss Wallack's things moved so soon, Inspector?"

"I'm afraid the theatre management insisted," he did not sound at all happy to say so.

"We've got another production coming in this very afternoon. Can't have the last lot's stuff hanging around now, can we?" Mr Wickes said.

"Two large cases then. Trunks, perhaps? So high?" Vastra held her hand out, palm down, to indicated chest height.

"That would be correct," the Inspector said," I saw them myself. One had been packed up and locked before the incident occurred, the second was open, awaiting Miss Wallack's final costumes."

"And her own clothes, what of them?"

"Lain out on the second trunk, all present and correct as far as I could make out."

"Miss Wallack would have been in male garb, would she not? That is the gist of the story; a girl who disguises herself as a boy?"

"It is, Madame," Mr Wickes answered when Brown looked flummuxed by the question, "Doublet and hose - that'd be tights, Inspector - for most of acts two and three. Her maid would have packed up the first trunk, probably before the performance even started. Repertory, you see."

"I do indeed. And this maid, a Miss...?"

"Manning, Madame," the Inspector said, on safer ground now, "Gertrude Manning. Taken quite ill after the first act. Mr Standing himself took a look at her and sent her home immediately."

"It's been a sickly company," Mr Wickes added, "Mr Whitman looking shocking and then this business. That's why I had the boys search the downstairs first, I had a fear that poor Miss Wallack had been taken with the delirium and wondered off in a state."

"This was when she didn't turn up at the stage for Act Three?" Jenny asked.

"Yes, Miss, we delayed the performance, had Mr Maher give the audience a word and a smile to keep 'em calm. Mr Standing checked the dressing rooms, I checked the rest of backstage and the boys had a quick look downstairs. When she couldn't be found, Mr Standing had to announce that she'd been taken ill and the performance was cancelled."

"There ain't no whatsit," Jenny struggled for the word, "stand in?"

"An understudy? She'd already gone on as Audrey and it was too late in the performance for all that anyhow. No, best to put a stop to it, especially since we needed to do a proper search."

"You were quite thorough, Mr Wickes?" Vastra said.

"We certainly were. The boys went up into the flies - that's the gallery above the stage - and back downstairs. It's all a bit of a mess down there so I had them turn everything over. We checked front of house too and there's no possibility of Miss Wallack going out over the footlights."

"The police were called in a little after ten," the Inspector added, "and made an additional search."

"There was someone at the stage door all that time," Wickes went on, "and I myself was there, along with a young Constable, once the police arrived."

"No-one left via that route?"

"No-one. And I had the staff keep a look out while the punters left through the front. No sign of Miss Wallack nor anyone looking anything like her. A few annoyed toffs, mind, but no-one looking particularly sinister. The girls kept a good eye on that too. Everyone liked Miss Wallack, she was lovely. Not like some of the stars," he snorted at the word, "that we get sometimes."

"And it was later that the company's dunnage left?"

"It was, Madame, past midnight before we started loading it up, what with the search and all."

"And Miss Wallack's things? The trunks with the production, her personal things...?"

"The clothes, her makeup and the few knickknacks she kept about were packed up and went with the company too, since we didn't know what else to do with them. Oh, and her chocolates, o'course."

"Chocolates?"

"Has quite the sweet tooth does Miss Wallack. And plenty of admirers to send her some. Last night was the same. Whoever it was bought her a nice box from," Wickes hesitated, then shrugged, "one of them good places."

"And was this box open?"

"Oh, well, Miss Wallack always said she shouldn't eat during the performance but I reckon she had one or two in the intervals. And Miss Manning always had a couple too. Very generous, Miss Wallack, very generosus indeed."

"And these confections, where are they now?"

"I packed 'em up with the other things, Madame. Closed up the box and put them on the top."

"And there was no sign of anything having happened?" Jenny said.

"Oh, no Miss. No screaming and shouting, no noise at all. No sign of blood, as you can see," he indicated the floor with a sweep of his arm, "nothing bashed about even. No, nothing at all, the poor little creature just disappeared like the great Li H'seng Chang himself."

"One last question, Mr Wickes," Vastra said, looking around the room carefully, "How much would you say Miss Wallack weighed?"

The man blushed to his mutton chops and spluttered, "Well, Madame, I'm not sure I'd ever given the thing any thought."

"Of course not, Mr Wickes," Jenny said, "but what the Madame means is, how much effort would it have taken to carry the lady out of here?"

"Ah, well now, that's a thing ain't it?" He hesitated for a moment and said, "I'd say a good sized man could manage it, though certainly not another woman. At a guess, I'd say around nine and one half stones."

"Thank you. I appreciate your candour, Mr Wickes, and all of your assistance."

"Only too pleased to help, Madame. I just hope you can find the poor girl, though I fear the worst I must say."

"Do not do so just yet, Mr Wickes, for I think there may be hope."


	3. Chapter 3

See Part One for story details.

* * *

As they returned to the foyer a younger man entered through the large doors and approached Brown, whispering something into the Inspector's ear while he glanced nervously at the two women. Jenny couldn't work out why he was so nervous until the nagging familiarity of his face coalesced in her mind. She glanced up at Vastra and received a nod in confirmation; it was the young Constable who had been stationed outside Mrs Henry's house when they had first met.

"Apparently he made the most of things, Madame," Jenny whispered and smiled broadly at the young man, making him even more nervous, "and I'm not sure we got so much credit as we might have for our first investigation."

The Inspector's eyes widened at the news that he had just heard and he nodded vigorously before dismissing the young man with a few words. The former Constable glanced at them again before he left, blushing furiously as Jenny bobbed a quick curtsey in his direction.

"Well, Madame Vastra," the Inspector said, oblivious to the interplay, "here's a turn up. Miss Wallack's maid has been taken to hospital. I sent the lad round this morning to ask her some questions but he found her landlady in quite a state and Miss Manning no-where to be found. Seems she was taken ill on her way home last night and taken to the Middlesex Hospital."

"I cannot say that I am surprised, Inspector. May we visit with her immediately? I fear her condition may be severe."

"And indeed it is, very severe in fact."

They walked in silence to the hospital and the two women followed the Inspector as he lead the way to the ward where Miss Manning was being treated. A formidable Matron greeted them, casting a disapproving look at the veiled form who towered over her as Vastra requested that they speak with Miss Manning immediately. Only the Inspector's more diffident manner and Jenny's kind words about the cleanliness of this ward in particular softened the woman. She lead them to a small room set off the longer ward. The Inspector remained outside with the Matron to discuss Miss Manning's condition while Vastra and Jenny went inside. They stood beside a narrow bed that contained a small, terribly pale woman with eyes that barely seemed to register their presence.

"Miss Manning?" Vastra said, "Forgive us for interrupting your convalesence but we must ask you some questions about Miss Wallack. You are aware of what has happened to your employer?"

Manning blinked a few times, forcing herself to focus on the veiled figure who loomed above her. She shrank back in the bed, her reddened eyes suddenly wide and terrified.

"Easy," Jenny stepped to the other side of the bed and took the woman's hand, "Easy now, she ain't nearly so scary as she looks. Now then," Jenny waited until Manning's eyes had turned to her, "poor Miss Wallack's gone missing. Taken by someone, looks like. We need you to help us so we can get her back. Can you do that, Miss?"

Manning nodded, her eyes locked on Jenny's smiling face.

"That's good then. Only a couple of questions is all. Now then, everything was all right for the first act, then you got took sick and Miss Wallack got her headache, yes?"

A second nod.

"And then you was sent home?"

A third.

"And there was nothing unusual that evening, nothing odd, no-one causing trouble or anything?"

A faint shake of the head.

"And them chocolates. Miss Wallack's favourites, are they? Yes, I reckoned so. I like a nice bit of chocolate too, when I gets the chance. Miss Wallack had one or two?"

Another nod.

"And you had a few too. One or two each act? Miss Wallack's treat for you, eh? That's nice. Very good. Well done, Miss, and thank you kindly. You settle back now and rest, eh? Take it easy and get yourself on the mend."

They left the room, Vastra touching Jenny's shoulder to convey her thanks as they stood close together in the corridor and waited for the Inspector to join them. He had been talking to an older man wearing a white coat and a deep scowl.

"Well, Ladies, this is most odd. The Doctor there is flummoxed - his own words too - about this case."

"The girl is showing symptoms similar to those of an opium eater, though it is highly unlikely she has ever indulged in that particular vice."

The Inspector stared at Vastra for a moment, "You are a medical woman to boot, Madame Vastra. Indeed, the confusion appears to lie in the unusual symptoms. The girl is quite ill I'm afraid and the Doctor fears only time will tell."

"That's generally what they say," Jenny said dismissively.

"Inspector, I must see this box of confectionery that both Miss Wallack and Miss Manning ate from."

"You're thinking poisoning no doubt?"

"I am, Inspector, but we must be quite sure. Now, would you know the theatre at which Mr Standing's troupe are next to be engaged?"

"I would as it happens. That'd be The Lyceum, Madame, where I believe they're performing one of Mr Stirling's plays. They're in rehearsals now, in fact, which is why Mr Standing had to leave us earlier."

"Then I would ask that you and at least three officers meet Miss Flint and I there in, say, two hours."

"Two hours at the Lyceum it is then. You are certain you will not require my assistance?"

"Quite certain, thank you."

They left the hospital, the Inspector taking a cab back to Whitehall Place while Vastra and Jenny walked the short distance to The Lyceum. It was another impressive building, a portico of tall columns looming above them. The entrance of pale marble lead to a short staircase and the foyer beyond.

"Not subtle these places, are they?" Jenny said.

"I believe that is not their intention," Vastra agreed and nodded towards a young man who hurried across the plush red carpet to meet them, "We are here to see Mr Standing."

He lead them on through the foyer and into the auditorium. There were a few players in their own clothing on the stage being equal parts directed and herded to their places. Mr Standing was sitting with a small, well-dressed woman in the centre of the stalls. The young man pointed in their direction and hurried away again.

Standing excused himself from the woman's company and joined them in the aisle, "Madame Vastra, Miss Flint, how may I help you?"

"We would like to see Miss Wallack's things, Mr Standing. I understand they were brought here?"

"Actually they were not. The trunks have gone into storage as we do not require Shakespearean garb for this production," he indicated the stage with a wave of his hand.

"And Miss Wallack's own things?" Jenny said.

"They along with the trunks, I believe." He turned back to the woman who remained seated, repeating the question and receiving a nod in reply. "Yes, yes, Ladies, everything will be in storage. I can have Jones take you there, if you would like?"

"That will not be required just yet, Mr Standing, though I must know the confectioners from which the chocolates were purchased. Would you remember by any chance?"

"In fact I would, Madame," he said proudly, "I confess, I have something of a taste for such things myself and I happened to notice Miss Wallack's chocolates as I passed by the stage door most days. Yesterday they were from Fortnum's and a very nice box too, the best that establishment offers I believe."

"They were there when you arrived?"

"I had been at the theatre earlier in the day, of course, but had left in the afternoon on business and returned a little after five. The stage manager has spaces at the stage door for storing the company's mail, deliveries and the like. Miss Wallack's gift was already there."

"And would you know who left them for her?" Jenny asked.

"I would not," Standing said hastily.

"But anyone could have left them?"

"Anyone."

"And everyone else would have seen them, as you did Mr Standing." Vastra said.

"Anyone with access to the stage door, certainly."

"And that's everyone in the company, plus the backstage people and people making deliveries and the like?" Jenny said.

"Indeed," his tone becoming testy.

"And the stage manager is always there?" Vastra pushed.

"Not at all, though the doorkeeper is generally so."

"Generally ain't always though," Jenny said.

"Quite so."

The converstion paused for a moment of vigorous activity on stage.

As it died down Vastra said, "Might I ask you to offer your opinions of your company, Sir? I would not trouble them during their rehearsal but I would like some idea of the dramatis personae, as it were."

Mr Standing agreed, though he was obviously annoyed at their continued interruption. He lead them closer to the stage and offered them seats in the front row. They settled themselves, Vastra and Jenny on either side of the man, and stared up at the chaos of shouted instructions, muttered lines and moving scenery.

"These chocolates, Mr Standing," Jenny tried again, "Any idea who gave them to Miss Wallack? I don't reckon she's the sort who would ever have to buy her own."

"I doubt it very much, though I cannot tell you who gave her that particular box."

"Could it have been one of the other cast members?" Vastra said.

Standing's eyes flicked up to the stage, pausing on two of the older men who stood as far away from one another as the director's instructions would allow. Both men were glancing down at the newcomers whenever they were able.

"I really couldn't say," Standing said, dragging his eyes from the stage, "Poor Irene had many admirers, as you can imagine, and any one of them could have given her such a gift."

"Oh aye?"

"Indeed," Vastra said, "Now then, Mr Standing, the members of your company?"

Standing pointed out the director, who had not been involved in the previous production, and some of the other actors and backstage people who had not been at the Lyric before talking them through the cast who had played in As You Like It. They listened without interruption until Standing began to describe the first of the two men whom they had noticed earlier.

"Maher there is our leading man. Gave a very good Senior in the production, excellent reviews. And that's Whit-"

"Before you go on, Mr Standing, a little more about Mr Maher," Vastra said, "He and Miss Wallack, they got on?"

"Quite well, I assure you."

"Nothing between them?" Jenny said, "I heard there's lots of romances when a play's on."

"Oh, my dear girl, I assure you there is nothing of the sort. We work far too hard for such nonsense, far too hard."

"I bet. Still, Miss Wallack a nice looking gal and Mr Maher there a handsome chap...?"

"Not at all," Standing's nasal tone became more shrill.

"You were never an actor yourself, Mr Standing" Vastra said.

Jenny stiffled her laughter behind her hand. Standing blinked at them, the apparent nonsequitour catching him off guard. He eyed the women for a moment before saying, "I was not, Madame, and in truth, I had little interest in it; my father and my father's father were both very successful in this role and I was happy to follow in their illustrious footsteps."

"Quite right, Sir," Jenny said, "So Mr Maher wouldn't have been a one to send cholocates and that?"

"Think carefully," Vastra said, "Miss Wallack's life could be at stake here."

Standing straightened in his seat but only nodded his understanding, "Yes, yes, I admit that Maher may very well have given Irene the box."

"Excellent. Was Mr Maher already at the theatre when you returned?"

Standing considered for a moment, "He was. He and Whitman both like to get in early to begin their preparations. Mrs Cathcart too. Alas, not all of the cast are so conscientious."

"Miss Wallack, what was she like then?" Jenny said.

"Oh, perhaps not quite so much as the gentleman of the cast but a true professional and absolutely committed to her career. That too is a reason why there could have been no romance between Irene and any member of the cast; she would not have risked her name on a mere flirtation."

Vastra paused for a moment before saying, "And that just leaves us with a Mr Whitman. He is the pale gentleman off to the left, is he not? I understand the whole cast has suffered somewhat during this run?"

"Whitman in particular but, yes, we have rather suffered from a malaise of sorts on this tour."

"Not a happy tour then?" Jenny said.

"Oh, quite the contrary. No, no, not unhappy at all, simply plagued by annoyances and the like."

"You would call the disappearance of your leading lady an annoyance, Mr Standing?" Vastra bristled.

"I would not," he held his hands up defensively, "I would not indeed, Madame. This is a most tragic and difficult time for us all. But, however, the show must go on and it is my job, nay my calling, to ensure that it does."

Jenny rolled her eyes behind Standing's back before saying, "So this Mr Whitman, could he have given her the chocolates?"

"I very much doubt it, not his style at all."

"And what exactly is his style, Mr Standing?"

"Oh, I couldn't say, Madame, I honestly couldn't say."

Vastra seemed content with the answer, though Jenny would have liked to ask more. Vastra gave a curt shake of her head as Jenny gesticulated behind Standing's back.

Vastra said only, "Well, Mr Standing, I believe we have taken up too much of your time, my apologies."

"Not at all, Madame, not at all."

"Then there is but one thing that remains. These trunks, would you be good enough to have Master Jones contact the Inspector at Scotland Yard and inform him of their location? Pray, also ask the Inspector to have both of Miss Wallack's trunks opened. You would not object of course?"

"I would not. Indeed, anything to help the Inspector with his investigation."

"Excellent," Vastra leaned in towards Standing conspiratorially, "Perhaps you would be good enough not to mention this to anyone else. And to request that your young assistant do likewise."

He gave his word as Vastra rose from her seat, offering her hand to the man who had sagged a little in relief. Jenny wondered if the relief was a product of his desire to return to the rehearsals or some fear that he had said too much. Probably both, she decided as she released his clammy hand.

Standing returned to the stalls and the two women walked back up the aisle and out into the foyer.

"You learned enough then, Madame?"

"I believe I have. Had you not, my dear?" Vastra said in an innocent tone.

Jenny glared up at her but Vastra kept her eyes forward as they left the theatre and returned to the heavy London air. They walked up Long Acre, back down Shaftesbury Avenue and on to Piccadily. The streets were busier here, filled with the bustle of the day. Jenny looked around excitedly, always happy to feel the life of London going on around her. She sensed Vastra's discomfort and took her arm gently.


	4. Chapter 4

See Part One for story details.

* * *

They walked in companionable silence until their approach to Fortnum And Mason. A large, seven storey building with arched windows on the ground floor. The doorman touched the rim of his hat as he opened the door for them and they swept into another impressive entrance of gold and red.

"Reckon we're being quite spoilt, Madame."

"We are indeed, my dear. I trust you will not be too disappointed when we return home?"

"Never disappointed to return home with you," Jenny said.

The quietly spoken words were almost lost in the gentle hum of business around them, immaculately turned out shop girls and managers respectfully indulging the whims of neatly coiffed and dressed ladies and gentleman.

"I confess, my dear, I am not familiar with this odd human notion of shopping," Vastra tasted the word as she said it, "It seems a very inefficient way to feed a peoples."

"Oh it is, believe me. Still, that's the way things are around here. Here we go, the confectioners is on the lower ground floor, we'll need to take the stairs."

They walked through the shop, glancing at the neatly arranged counters, smiling at the people who acknowledged their presence. A trim little man in a Fortnum's uniform approached them at one point but Vastra waved him away with a few words. They walked down the large, spiral staircase and through a more sparse group of people until they reached the confectionery counter.

It was staffed by another trim man in uniform, though this one a tall, thin man with a carefully shaped moustache. Two women were with him, one already serving a young man in a homburg. They approached the man behind the counter and he offered a bow to Vastra, barely looking at Jenny.

"My name is Madame Vastra, this is my associate Miss Flint."

"Major Collins, at your service Ma'am."

"Excellent, Major. I am in need of some information." The man twitched a little. "A box of your finest chocolates was purchased yesterday, almost certainly in the late morning, early afternoon and almost certainly by a gentleman of the theatrical persuasion. I wish to know by whom exactly?"

The man's twitch grew more pronounced, "I am terribly sorry, Madame, but I cannot divulge such information."

"Thing is," Jenny said in a low tone, "we are investigators, working for Inspector Brown at the Yard. We thought you'd not want a lot of Bobbies trambling through your shop so we came ourselves. If you'd be good enough to help us, it'd save everyone a great deal of trouble."

Collin's eyes looked Jenny up and down before turning back to Vastra, who had straightened herself to her full, imposing height and levelled the full force of her veiled stare at the man. For some reason, these humans seemed to find a veiled stare quite as intimidating as a face itself.

She watched as the Major considered them carefully and added, "Of course, we can request the assistance of the Inspector and his men, should that be necessary. I am sure he will be happy to meet you, Major Collins."

Collins opened his mouth to speak, then noticed the shop girls watching him carefully and hesitated.

"I can only offer my deepest apologies, Madame, but I fear I cannot help you." At that, he stepped away, turning to smile at a severely starched man who approached the counter, "Ah, Mr Smythe, how is the dear Duchess today?"

"Smarmy -" Jenny began but Vastra's urgent cough stopped her before she could finish the thought.

"Perhaps you might help me," Vastra said to the shop girl who was watching them with a faint smile on her pale face. Vastra held up a hand to forestall the girl, "Not in regard to this matter, I assure you. I merely wish to purchase a box of these chocolates for Miss Flint." Jenny beamed up at Vastra, who offered a faint nod in reply, "You did mention that you were partial to such things, my dear."

"Oh I am, Madame, though I ain't never had such a fine treat before. Are you sure we can afford it?" she added in a hushed tone.

"Quite sure," Vastra leaned down to speak into Jenny's ear, then straightened again to see the girl eyeing them with an intrigued expression, "They are the best that you have to offer?"

"They are indeed, Madame, and quite the best chocolates in London."

"You were working here yesterday, Miss...?" Vastra asked the girl.

"Miss Arthurs, Madame," she said, ignoring the hiss of warning from the other shop girl before she hurried away from them, "Doreen Arthurs. And, yes, I was here yesterday. Quite a busy day, as it happens."

"Then you wouldn't have noticed who was buying what anyway," Jenny said as she took the box from the girl's hands.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Some folks you know as regulars and some you notice, even if they haven't been in before. And, of course, there's always those who you know from the newspapers and the gossips, eh?"

"They are so often memorable," Vastra agreed.

"Anyone in particular call in yesterday then? Someone noticable?" Jenny said.

"Oh, a few."

"Anyone from the gossips?"

"Perhaps there was, Miss," Doreen grinned, "And I thought of him, you know, this morning when I read about poor Miss Wallack, taken so terrible and in the middle of her last night too."

"That made you think of him in particular?"

"Oh, yes Miss, what with him being in the same company and all. Nice chap too, or so it seemed to me, very polite and quite handsome, so Pru there said."

"Not too pale?" Vastra said.

Doreen looked surprised, "Oh no, Madame, quite a healthy looking sort, I'd say. Is he ill too, Madame?"

"Not him," Jenny said quickly, noticing that Major Collins was eyeing them suspiciously, "reckon he's quite healthy. But it is a shame about poor Miss Wallack. Still, read the 'papers tomorrow, they might have something more on the case."

Doreen smiled warmly at Jenny and gave a polite nod to Vastra as she paid for the chocolates. They thanked her for her help, making a particular show of expressing their disappointment that she had refused to answer their questions on anything but the nature of the confectionery. Major Collins looked relieved, though the other shop girl still considered Doreen carefully.

Vastra turned and lead Jenny back to the staircase and up to the ground floor. Jenny held the box as if it was more precious to her than pure gold, keeping it pressed close to her as they maneauvered their way through the crowds and back through the main doors.

"Bless you for these, Madame," Jenny said.

"My pleasure. And perhaps I might be permitted to taste one? Purely in the interests of research, of course."

"Oh, of course. So where to next then?"

"We have an hour before we must return to the theatre and you must be growing quite hungry. Perhaps a bite to eat?"

They took luncheon at St James' Hall amongst a sea of over-dressed and over-fed women of a certain, if not always acknowledged, age. Jenny took it all in with wonder in her eyes, happily ignoring the less pleasant gazes that came her way and smiling at those who seemed more friendly.

Vastra took it all in with a more jaundiced eye. The rank stench of humans surrounded her like a fog and she glared behind her veil at the idle women who dined and chattered while their Empire grew and their supposed-inferiors went hungry. She considered Jenny, one of those inferiors to the women who stared at her in open disgust, and thought of the girl's goodness and strength. She was worth a thousand of these creatures and always would be. Vastra determined to protect her friend to her last breath.

"You alright there, Madame?"

Vastra forced her body to relax and smiled behind the veil. Somehow Jenny always seemed able to read her moods, with or without the veil.

"I am quite well, my dear, though not perhaps as comfortable as I might like."

Jenny leaned across the small table and lowered her voice, "Don't blame 'em, eh, they don't know any better. Not been bought up to anything but eating and talking, wouldn't know how to make a nice fire up or even dress themselves half of 'em. Not much of a life really, is it?"

"You are far too forgiving, my dear. Far too forgiving indeed," Vastra repeated as she sat back in her chair and looked at the women anew.

Jenny finished her luncheon and they left the rooms, returning to the street and its bustle and noise. It was almost refreshing after the oppressive nature of St James' Hall. They retraced their steps to the Lyric Theatre and found the Inspector just stepping down from a carriage, three Constables tumbling off the top to stand behind him. The Inspector greeted them with open admiration.

"Madame Vastra, you are a true genius. Quite the masterstroke, if I may say so."

"Masterstroke?" Jenny said accusingly.

"Please do not, Inspector," Vastra winced as Jenny glared up at her, "I fear I do not deserve such kind words."

"Oh, on the contrary, Madame, what a very timely conclusion you drew."

"The girl is alive, I take it?"

"Girl? Miss Wallack?" Jenny's tone was dropping ever lower.

"Oh yes, Ladies, Miss Wallack alive, if not entirely well."

"Opioid poisoning, of course, Inspector. And I trust that her catatonic state ensured only a minimum of damage?"

"Not sure I'd say a minimum exactly. The poor girl has many a bruise and I suspect more than one breakage. She's at the Middlesex now and I hope to have a full report on my return to the Yard."

Vastra risked a glance at Jenny and wished she had not. She had taken a calculated risk, both in asking Standing to convey her message to the Inspector and in not informing Jenny of her conclusions. Still, there was something quite endearing about that scowl, that infuriated look in the dark eyes, that Vastra always found oddly attractive. Vastra had been made to understand that teasing your companion was not entirely acceptable, had been made to understand it quite forcefully, but the temptation remained.

"Forgive me, my dear, but I wished to be quite certain before explaining myself."

"Oh yeah," Jenny's voice dripped disbelieve and Vastra dared not look at her again. Instead, she turned back to the Inspector and said, "I am very glad to hear that Miss Wallack remains with us. I presume she was unable to identify her assailant?"

"I'm afraid not. Quite unconscious when we opened the trunk and barely more than that as we took her to the hospital."

"Then we must do so ourselves, Inspector. Come, then," she indicated the entrance of the theatre with a wave of her hand, "but let us show a little subtlety, shall we Inspector? Have two of your men stationed behind the stage, awaiting your signal, and let us allow the company to believe that we are still unsure of what exactly has happened. Do not inform them that you have discovered the girl."

"Lull the perpetrator into a false sense of security, as it were Madame?"

"Just so."


	5. Chapter 5

See Part One for story details.

* * *

Vastra, Jenny, Inspector Brown and his men entered the theatre and made their way to the auditorium. The Inspector looked to Vastra expectantly as they walked.

"Might I ask you to talk me through your deductive process, Madame, before we find ourselves in company?"

"Yeah, I'd like that too," Jenny muttered.

"Of course. Now then," Vastra lingered in the foyer, allowing two of the policemen to move off and find their way backstage. She collected her thoughts and began, "It was obvious, was it not Inspector, that Miss Wallack must have known her assailant."

"No sign of any struggle, no blood, no noise."

"Indeed. And we can also be clear that Miss Wallack, as good an actress as she may be, could not have made herself invisible. Therefore she must have remained in the theatre during the search."

"So the bastard stuffed her in a trunk?" Jenny said.

"Aptly put, my dear. Specifically, the one that was already closed and locked when the initial search began. Now, we must consider the method used by our man. For it was a man, of course, given that the assailant would have had to move Miss Wallack's body. To manhandle her, as it were."

"No easy feat to lift a full-grown woman and fold her into a trunk like that," the Inspector agreed and gave a faint shudder as he said it.

"You'd need to drug her. And she did love her chocolates," Jenny added looking at the box in her hands.

"Quite. Mild opioid poison results in drowsiness and confusion, though a larger dose can have the opposite effect and more still can be unpleasant indeed. There were some six or seven chocolates eaten, Inspector?"

"Seven, Madame."

"Miss Manning's two or three," Jenny counted off, "and Miss Wallack's two. Where did the others go then?"

"Inspector, did poor Miss Wallack have traces of chocolate in and around her mouth when she was found?"

"In fact she did, it's a miracle she didn't choke or indeed suffocate in there."

"Suffocation would be unlikely, though I fear her assailant would not have been entirely unhappy with either outcome."

"He stuffed more chocolates into her mouth to keep her under?" Jenny said in disgust.

"As the chocolates melt, Miss Wallack receives a steady dose of the opioid in question. I would be interested to know the exact chemical compound used, Inspector. Perhaps I might request a small sample for my own tests?"

"I'll have to check that with my superiors, Madame, though I will certainly do my very best to assist you."

"You are most kind. Now, let us linger no more. We must apprehend our culprit."

They walked on, entering the stalls and moving down the aisle towards the stage. Jenny carefully deposited her box of chocolates on an end seat halfway towards the stage where the rehearsals continued, though the sparse scenery had been somewhat filled out and the general air was a little less chaotic. Jones noticed their approach and pointed them out to Mr Standing where he stood at the footlights. His face twisted a little as they approached but he greeted them cordially.

"Forgive me for interrupting you yet again, Mr Standing," Vastra said.

"Not at all, Madame, not at all. Inspector," he greeted.

"Mr Standing, might we have a word with one or two of your players?"

Standing glanced around at the faces that stared back as the whole company waited to hear what the Inspector and his strange companions had to say.

"Of course, Inspector, please be our guest."

Jenny noticed that his hand shook as he swept his arm around him in an expansive gesture but then her attention returned to Vastra's back. She would have to make her life a nightmare for a few days, just to remind her that teasing wasn't polite, but Jenny still filled with pride at the remarkable mind of her friend.

Vastra spoke for a moment with Mrs Cathcart and a few others before turning to the leading man.

"Mr Maher, it was you who purchased the chocolates as a gift for Miss Wallack, was it not?"

He hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously around the stage before his shoulder's sagged and he said, "It was indeed, Madame," in a low voice.

"Then you would not be surprised to know that the chocolates in question were drugged?"

His head shot up, his eyes burning with indignation, "I most certainly am surprised! How dare you insinuate!"

"Madame Vastra insinuates nothing, Sir," the Inspector said, "Indeed, Miss Wallack's chocolates were poisoned and you have freely admitted to giving them to the victim."

"I...I... How could anyone think I would hurt poor Irene. I love her!"

"But she would not have you, Mr Maher," Vastra said.

"Well, no, but a chap can't go around disappearing every girl who won't have him. Mr Standing, I beg you to speak for me."

"Maher is right," Standing said, though his tone was hardly certain, "Irene showed no favours to any of her admirers, as I said. You might as well accuse any of them of doing her harm."

"Besides," Maher said desperately, "I left the chocolates at the stage door. Anyone could have swapped them for drugged ones or laced them themselves."

The words sounded pitiably desperate as he said them and the rest of the company seemed to ease away from him as they stared. There was a long pause. Jenny felt the Inspector ready to move and hoped he had the sense to wait for Vastra's command. She glanced up at her friend and knew that her veiled gaze was not on the man in front of her. She looked to the side and realised who the true culprit was, angling her body in that direction in case the man moved to attack Vastra or to leap over the footlights.

"You are quite right, Mr Maher," Vastra finally said, turning on her heels to look directly at Whitman, "As indeed they were. Inspector, arrest Mr Simon Whitman on the assault and abduction of Miss Irene Wallack."

A gasp went up from the company and Whitman took advantage of a moments hesitation to turn towards the wings. Jenny launched herself forward, tackling him before the Inspector or the Constable had even moved. She wrestled the larger form, a well placed elbow doubling the man up and a kick to the knee felling him. He hit the stage with a thud, the air pushed from his lungs, and Jenny stood over him, wiping her hands together as the officers belatedly came to her aid.

"Thank you, my dear," Vastra said, unable to hide the surprise in her tone, then, "You are unhurt?"

"Quite alright, thank you Madame."

The two officers finally came running from backstage and helped their colleague to drag Whitman from the floor, hauling him upright and holding the shaking form before the Inspector. Whitman was pale and sweating profusely but his eyes burned with anger.

"Bitches," he hissed, "You and that whore Wallack. You'll never find her. Never! She'll be long dead before you ever could."

"On the contary, Mr Whitman," Vastra said in her most deadly tone, "Miss Wallack is alive and receiving treatment at the Middlesex Hospital. She will be quite well in a few days I'm sure."

He hissed again, fighting hard against the policemen who struggled to keep their hold on him. Jenny stepped forward, her hands raised to fight again should he break free of them. Vastra placed a calming hand on her shoulder and eased her back.

"Perhaps your men might like to take Mr Whitman away, Inspector? I fear for his safety if Miss Flint were to be given the opportunity."

"Too bloomin' right," Jenny said.

"Lads, take him away."

The three men dragged the still struggling man down to the aisle and out of the auditorium while the rest of the company watched him go with varying levels of disgust on their faces. There was another long pause before questions erupted from all quarters, the din quite shocking after the silence before.

"Now then, now then," Inspector Brown said, his hands held up to quiet the company. He turned to Madame Vastra, "Madame?"

"Opioid poisoning, Inspector. Who better to know of and have at his disposal such a substance than an addict himself?"

Some of the company muttered denials and even disparaging comments but many remained quiet. Mr Standing looked crestfallen, though not at all surprised. He nodded slowly as the company's attention fell on him.

"I feared so, though I was not sure. One hears such stories of these things, such lurid tales indeed that one expects a very monster in our mists. Not this slow descent that looks so much like a lingering illness or a simple malady. A shame, Madame, a great shame. And yet, you say that poor Irene is alive and well?"

"Perhaps not well, Mr Standing."

"No, being stuffed into a trunk ain't too good for your health," Jenny added.

"A trunk?"

The rest of the company looked as horrified as Mr Standing, Jenny noticed. Maher had paled visibly and was being held up by one of his colleagues.

"She is going to be well?" he asked.

"I hope so," Inspector Brown said.

"Please God."

"Hear, hear," Standing said, "Well Inspector, we must thank you and your colleagues for solving this case and finding Irene in such a timely manner. Indeed, how could we ever thank you fully?"

"Tickets for your next performance might be nice," Jenny said.

It earned her a sharp twitch of the veil from Vastra but Standing seemed quite happy to have something to offer in exchange for the quick and quiet solution to the mystery. At least, Jenny thought, he was hoping that it remained quiet. Vastra accepted the offer and excused them from the Inspector and the company as gracefully as she could. She and Jenny walked back up through the stalls, Jenny collecting her chocolates as they went, and waited for the Inspector in the foyer. He joined them after a few minutes looking pleased with the day's work.

"I cannot thank you enough, Madame Vastra," he said as he took their hands, "And you too Miss Flint. A remarkable job all round, if I may say so."

"Again, Inspector, please do not. I ask only that Scotland Yard pay our fee promptly and that you look kindly upon us should we require your co-operation in the future."

The Inspector made to speak, thought better of it and said, "Of course, Madame. I quite understand. And a Banker's Draft will be with you this very afternoon. I don't suppose," he hesitated, "that you might consider a more permanent arrangement?"

"Oh I don't think so, Inspector," Jenny put in quickly, "but thank you kindly for the offer."

"No, I supposed not. Though I trust I might call upon your assistance at some point again in the future?"

"We will always endeavour to assist Scotland Yard if we are able," Vastra said, inclining her head slightly.

"Excellent. And thank you again, Ladies, with all my heart."

They took their leave and made their way through the foyer and back to the street. They walked out into a lull in the bustle of London life, the street almost deserted. Vastra hailed a cab and they settled themselves inside, pushed back into their seats a little as the driver whipped the horse into movement and their journey home began.

Vastra waited for her companion to speak but the cab remained silent. After a while she said, "I apologise for not informing you of my conclusions earlier, my dear."

"Slipped your mind no doubt."

"Not at all. I simply -"

"Like teasing the human," Jenny cut in.

Vastra eased her veil back and smiled at her companion, "Well, I admit that it has its appeal. And I did give you a box of quite the finest chocolates in London don't forget."

Jenny's serious expression broke into a grin, "You did that. Here," she opened the box and offered it to Vastra, "try one. For research purposes, mind."

"Quite, my dear. You are most kind."

Jenny took a chocolate for herself, "And don't you forget it."


End file.
